


The Radio Host and the Private Investigator

by Stackthedeck



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Detective Shane Madej, Dragons, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, Welcome to Night Vale AU, ghost - Freeform, radio show au, radio show host ryan, spooky stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-08-22 09:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16595573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stackthedeck/pseuds/Stackthedeck
Summary: Shane is a private investigator. Ryan is a radio show host. Both are searching for truth and answers. Neither have the same definition of truth or answers. Shane is a believer in logic, something that has yet to be proven in the town of Night Vale. Ryan is skeptic of this new outsider. Will Shane be able to crack his case if he continues to ignore the supernatural? Will Ryan finally snap and kill Shane? I can only shrug is response.This AU is my frustration with Shane for dismissing the supernatural and so now he's the crazy one. #boogaraI swear this fic is abandoned I’m just a stressed high schooler trying to get into college!





	1. Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, you don't need to know anything about Welcome to Night Vale to read this fic but, it's a really good podcast so I recommended it. Constructive criticism is always welcome, so roast me down in the comments! Also, I recommend reading the radio in Ryan's theory voice.

Shane stands in front of a cork board, photos and newspaper clippings connected with red string, head in his hands. He had been hired to find several children, all about college age, who’d disappeared. All the clues connected and lead to this strange little town. He had found nothing in his short time here because, anytime he’d ask a local about one of the missing persons, they’d shake their head and scurry off, casting nervous glances over their shoulder. He’s hit a block in the case, to say the least.

Shane can’t remember the last time he slept and all the coffee cups on his desk are empty. What he needs is a break. His eyes swivel around his hotel room and land on a radio that he swears wasn’t there before. Turning the knob, the radio whirls to life but, produces only static. Shane changes through the stations but finds only more static.

“Come on,” he growls, delivering a smack to the radio. Suddenly, a silky voice laced with intrigue pours from the speakers.

“A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass over head while we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Nightvale.”

There’s something familiar but so alien to Shane about that voice. He lets the mystery of the radio voice fade to the back of his mind for another time. Maybe the local news could give him some insight into the case.

“Hello listeners. To start things off I've been asked to read this brief notice: the city council announces the opening of a new dog park at the corner of Earl and Summerset near the Ralph's. They would like to remind everyone that dogs are not allowed in the dog park. People are not allowed in the dog park. It is possible you will see hooded figures in the dog park. Do not approach them. Do not approach the dog park. The fence is electrified and highly dangerous. Try not to look at the dog park, and especially do not look for any period of time at the hooded figures. The dog park will not harm you.” The voice explains in an even tone although, edges of panic slip in especially at the mention of city council.

“What the hell?” Shane says to himself, out loud, alone in his hotel room. He can only imagine this is a satire radio show.

“And now the news.”

“Thank god,” Shane says. Maybe that was just a funny bit before the actual stuff, a weird small town inside joke.

“Old Woman Rie out near the car lot says the ghost revealed themselves to her; said they were radiant, and one of them was orb like; said they helped her with various household chores. One of them changed a light bulb for her, the porch light. She's offering to sell the old lightbulb, which has been touched by a ghost. It was the orb ghost, if that sweetens the pot for anyone. If you're interested, contact Old Woman Rie. She's out near the car lot.” The voice hitches at each mention of ghost. Shane doesn’t catch this though, he’s up and pacing around the room at the first mention of ghost.

“This is bullshit!” he shouts, alone in his hotel room. “What kind of town allows this garbage on the radio? Ghost are- they’re not scientifically possible.” Shane, as private investigator, doesn’t have much say on what’s scientifically possible but, as a self-proclaimed man of logic, ghost are, as he just claimed, bullshit.

“A new man came into town yesterday. Who is he? What does he want from us? Why his perfect and rough haircut? Why his perfect and mysterious coat?” The voice catches Shane off guard, a million questions running through his head. Is the radio talking about him? If so, how did the radio host know about him already? His haircut is rough? Someone finally thinks his coat is mysterious?

“He says he is a private investigator. Well, we have all been private investigators at one point or another in our lives. But why now? Why here? And just what does he plan to do with all those photos and cork boards filled with red sting in that hotel room he is renting—the one next to Big Rico's Pizza?” Shane feels a pit in his stomach. He’d brought those things into his room in the middle of the night, how does the host know?

“No one does a slice like Big Rico. No one.” The voice is threatening but, robotic. Shane’s stomach growls and his mouth waters. Pizza sounds amazing and he really needs to get out of this room. He throws on his trench coat and steps outside. The desert sun is hot and the air is dry so, a coat seems like a polite knock on death’s door but, the silky radio voice called his coat mysterious and Shane has an aesthetic to uphold.

Big Rico’s has that old timey diner feel to it with pleather booths, tiled floor, and hollow eyed wait staff with smiles stretched too wide and too thin. Shane sits in a booth, he doesn’t remember ordering but, before long a pizza and coke are in front of him. The pizza tastes amazing but not quite like pizza. I guess it’s true what they say, no one does a slice like Big Rico. No one.

The same voice from the radio flows through the pizza place. “-bitter rivals the Desert Bluffs Cacti. Desert Bluffs is always trying to show us up through fancier uniforms, better pregame snacks, and possibly, by transporting a commercial jet into our gymnasium, delaying practice for several minutes at least. For shame, Desert Bluffs. For shame.”

Shane flags down a waitress, grabbing her by her elbow. Her hair is short and she’s about the age of the kids he’s looking for. She doesn’t wear a nametag but, Shane is pretty sure her name is Stacey.

“What’s playing?” he asks, gesturing vaguely around.

Stacey quirks an eyebrow. “Where’d you come from?” she bites in that sarcastic teenager way.

Shane opens his mouth but finds he doesn’t have an answer. He’s from something with an I or maybe an M? “I-I’m new in town.” 

“It’s just the town news.” She shrugs. “Nothing too exciting.” 

Stacey walks off, leaving Shane with a strange dread in his stomach and a buzzing in his head.

“That new investigator we now know is named Shane called a town meeting. He has a oval shaped face and a nose like a hawk. His hair is perfect, and we all hate and despair and love that perfect hair in equal measure. Old Woman Rie brought apple taters, which were decent, but lacked salt. She said the ghost had taken her salt for a otherworld mission, and she hadn't yet gotten around to buying more. Shane told us that we are, by far, the most crimally interesting community in the US, and he had come to investigate just what is going around here. He smirked, and everything about him was obnoxious, and I hated him instantly. Government agents from a vague, yet menacing, agency were in the back watching. I fear for Shane. I fear for Night Vale. I fear for anyone caught between what they know and what they don't yet know that they don't know.”

The memory of the town meeting emerges from Shane’s mind as if the event didn’t happen until the radio host had reported it. But the event had happened, he remembers telling the town about the missing kids and how a handsome man had stood up and told him the disappearances were all in the name of community service. That’s how he knew the voice! The radio show host is hiding something, he knows it, and it’s up to Shane to figure out what.

Shane drives down the street with a receipt for pizza and coke in his pocket that he doesn’t remember paying. He asked a passerby where he could find the radio station and they glared vacantly at him while chanting in a dead language.

“Everyone knows where the radio station is, silly,” they laughed, as if they hadn’t been chanting seconds before, then walked away. Not wanting to risk another encounter like that, Shane started driving and found that he did know where the radio station is.

The station is a small shack on the outskirts of town and has a massive radio tower behind it with a blinking red light at the top. It smells of oozing flesh and the color purple. Shane grabs at his belt, searching for his gun but, finds nothing. He must have left it at the hotel.

“Lights, seen in the sky above the Arby's. Not the glowing sign of Arby's; something higher and beyond that. We know the difference. We've caught onto their game. We understand the lights-above-Arby's game. Invaders from another world. Ladies and gentlemen, the future is here, and it's about a hundred feet above the Arby's.” The voice sounds from the car radio. Shane slams the radio off with a sudden fit of rage. Is this asshole saying this town has aliens too? He can’t wait to put this creep behind bars.

Shane marches up to the station door and knocks politely. As much as he fantasizes about kicking down doors, he doesn’t have enough evidence or legal standing to do so. The door squeaks open and a soft “come in” chimes from inside. Cold air seeps from the building into the arid desert.

Shane steps inside, suddenly less sure of himself. The room is dark except for a dark figure with pulsating purple skin that glows like a radioactive substance. It’s forehead has a glowing orb embedded in it. The orb blinks. An oozing squelching sound wraps around the figure like tentacles.

Then the lights flicker on. The dark figure is replaced with a short man. He wears a white button-up shirt, a purple bow tie with matching suspenders. A pair of expensive headphones wrap around his neck, the detective takes this to mean he’s the radio host.

“Shane,” the man says with sarcastic enthusiasm, “What brings you here?” 

Shane, newly invigorated by his dislike of the man, takes long strides to move across the hall. “I’m here to investigate the missing person cases.” He stands a few feet away from the man with his hand on his hip.

“And why would you need me?” The man smiles smugly. “you seem to think my reporting is lies anyway.” Shane is caught off guard. How did he know that? After all, this is their first official meeting, right?

“You’re a person of interest in the case.” Shane morphes his express into something like a law and order detective.

“Oh!” The radio host, for the first time, looks pleased to have Shane in his studio. “How very kind of you, Detective. I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.” He sticks his hand out. “I’m Ryan.”

Shane is once again thrown off balance by the radio host. “...I’m Shane.” He shakes Ryan’s hand, a slow two shakes, before putting his hands into his trench coat pockets. “You do know what a person of interest is, right?”

“Of course,” Ryan giggles like a schoolgirl, which is quite unnerving. Despite the man’s height, he is very intimidating with his muscular biceps, focused eyes, and tight pants. Well maybe that last one is just intimidating to Shane. “No one has ever thought of me being capable of kidnapping or murder or hell even insurance fraud.”

“The way you say that makes me think you have committed all those crimes.” Shane quirks an eyebrow and takes a step closer.

“Oh you flatter me, detective.” Ryan brushes his hand across Shane arm. “But, I’m afraid I’m an upstanding citizen, I even have stop sign immunity this year.”

Shane pretends to understand what just happened. “Well, I still need to ask you a few questions.”

“Of course.” Ryan opens the door to a recording studio, the on air sign dark. “Would you like to stay for an interview after?”

“I’m afraid I have to decline.” Shane walks into the studio and takes a seat in one of the chairs. Ryan follows him into the room like a kicked puppy. Shane almost feels bad for the guy but, he is the only suspect. He pulls out a legal pad and red pen. “So Ryan-” 

“Please,” Ryan interjects sharply, “Call me Mr. Bergara. It’s much more professional.”

Shane rolls his eyes. “Mr. Bergara, I’ve been hired to find five people. From my investigation, the last time they were each heard from they were planning to come to this town.” He pulls up a picture of each missing person on his phone. “Maurice, Martha, Louis, Jennie, and Betty Sodder. Do you know them?”

Ryan nods gravely. “They were interns, lost in the line of community radio.”

“What exactly does that mean, Mr. Bergara.”

Ryan tilts his head to the side and stares at the detective for a moment. “Where are you from, detective?”

Shane opens his mouth to answer but finds the words stuck on the tip of his tongue. Something with an I or an M, maybe an L? “I-I’m new in town.” Ryan nods as if that is a satisfying answer.

“Well if you want to know more about those interns, you should talk to Old Woman Rie. She’s out near the car lot.”

“Is that the same Rie who sees ghost?” Shane pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, already anticipating the answer.

“Why yes,” Ryan chuckles, “I could see the wheels turning in your detective brain there.”

“Do you have a more reliable source?” Shane sighs.

“Rie is incredibly reliable,” Ryan huffs. He pauses for a long moment and Shane worries that this is the end of his interrogation. “If you do want more information though, there is the hall of public records. I must warn you though, no one has come out alive.”

Shane laughs, a hardy belly laugh. Ryan stares at him darkly. “Are you serious?” Shane wipes some moisture from his eye.

“Dead.” Ryan points towards the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a radio show to run.” Shane nods and gets up.

As he walks out, Ryan grabs the sleeve of Shane’s jacket. “Hey, Shane,” Ryan whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Watch your back.” With that, the host retreats into his studio.

Shane hears Ryan’s voice transfigure back into the silky thing that pours out of the radio-“Welcome back, listeners.”- as he leaves the station.

Shane climbs into his car and fires up the engine. The Radio, turned back on, reports, “The city council would like to remind you about the tiered otherworld, and the Hierarchy of ghost. The reminder is that you should not know anything about this. The structure of the otherworld and the spiritual organizational chart are privileged information known only to the city council members on a need-to-know basis. Please, do not speak to or acknowledge any ghost that you might come across while shopping at the Ralph's or at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. They only tell lies, and do not exist. Report all ghost sightings to the city council for treatment.”

Shane chuckles at this. The report seems to denie and confirm the existence of ghost but, he chooses to focus on the denie part. Maybe there’s hope for the cute radio show host. No, not cute, annoying and illogical, not cute.

“And now for a brief public service announcement. Bears. Can they kill your children? Yes.” Shane chuckles at this too, especially how Ryan’s voice cracks in fear when he says bears. Shane had always considered sharks a bigger threat but, they are in the middle of the desert, no sharks could hurt anyone here. Then again, there are no bears in the desert.

Shane listens to Ryan’s voice drone on until he gets back to the hotel. He doesn’t listen to the words, just his pretty voice, it’s best that way. He gets into his room and finds the radio still on. He half listens to it as he goes over the notes until, he hears his name.

“Shane, perfect and beautiful, came into our studios during the break earlier, but declined to stay for an interview. He had some sort of legal pad, red pen, and photos. Said I am a person of interest in his case. I don't know why but, he sure took a lot of notes. Shane looked stressed. I've never seen that kind of look on someone with that mysterious of a coat. I made him leave in a hurry after he thought I joked about the hall of public records. Government bureaucracy is nothing to joke about. Wish I could help with his case, only to have some fun. But then, who would be hear to talk sweetly to all of you out there? Settling in to be another clear night and pretty evening here in Night Vale. I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with, or, at least, good memories of when you did. Good night, listeners. Good night.”

Ryan’s word move Shane. Suddenly his hotel room feels very empty and impersonal. The red string is the only pop of color, making Shane yearn for the annoying purple of the radio station. Shane leaves the radio on as he crawls into bed.


	2. Obi, you know, the Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear that I love Shane with my whole heart but, he's reaction like any logical person would in Night Vale. I don't hate Shane, poor boy just doesn't know what's happening. Just wanted to make that clear. #Boogara
> 
> Also, as always, criticism is always welcome.

Night Vale has proven itself strange in the past week. Shane has grown accustomed to waking up to strange things like spiders with books caught in their webs or cockroaches with words written on their tiny bodies. Today is different, mostly because it is not bug related.

Shane walks into the hotel bathroom, half asleep, and bumps into something furry. A light orange tabby cat hovers over the sink. An air conditioning unit blast air in the general direction of the cat.

“Crazy breeze, huh little buddy.” Shane pets the cat and it purrs but, doesn’t stop hovering. “I’ll call you Obi.” The cat purrs some more and licks Shane’s hand. Obi seems like he could be a perfect pet, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s trapped in a floating prison. Or, as Shane believes, trapped in a stiff breeze.

The radio whirls to life, “The desert seems vast, even endless, and yet scientists tell us that somewhere, even now, there is snow. Welcome to Night Vale.” It turns on by itself everyday at different times. Shane, like most things in this town, assumes it’s a Night Vale thing. He quite enjoys the radio show, it’s been helping him blend in with the townsfolk and it doesn’t hurt that the host’s voice is like well brewed coffee with honey drizzled in.

“Have any of our listeners seen the glowing cloud that has been moving in from the west? Well, John Peters—you know, the farmer?—he saw it over the western ridge this morning, said he would have thought it was the setting sun if it wasn't for the time of day. Apparently the cloud glows in a variety of colors, perhaps changing from observer to observer, although all report a low whistling when it draws near. One death has already been attributed to the glow cloud-”

Shane doesn’t catching anything past the first sentence because, he’s out the door with his legal pad and pen. He squints at the horizon, in search of this “glow cloud”. A hazy cloud, shifting from red to orange to everything else, is a splotch against the sunrise.

“Glow cloud, my ass,” Shane mumbles. He scribbles, “Ryan said there’s a glowing cloud but, it’s just a trick of the light” on his legal pad. He’s been fact checking the radio reports and keeping a list, just in case he runs into Ryan. The cloud moves closer to town but, Shane is already back in his hotel room.

His cork board hasn’t changed much since his first day in Night Vale, besides Shane’s interrogation notes with Ryan. He’s been trying to find out about the hall of public records but, every citizen erupts into violent shivers whenever he asks about it. Old Woman Rie, despite beginning his first tip, is out of the question. The case is definitely blocked. He needs something to get his detective brain working again. Ever since he entered Night Vale, he stopped getting emails from clients so there are no new cases to jump start his brain. Maybe he could offer his services to the local police.

“Alert: the Sheriff's Secret Police are searching for a fugitive named Andrew Ilnyckyj, who escaped custody last night following a 9pm arrest. Ilnyckyj is described as a five-headed dragon, approximately 18 feet tall, with mostly brown eyes and weighing about 3600 pounds. He is suspected of putting gold on food. Which we all is the most heinous of crimes. Ilnyckyj was pulled over for speeding last night, and the Secret Police became suspicious when he allegedly gave the officers a fake driver's license for a bearded man named Adam Bianchi. After discerning that Adam Bianchi was actually a five-headed dragon from somewhere other than our little world, the Secret Police searched Ilnyckyj’s vehicle. The Secret Police say Ilnyckyj escaped police custody by breathing fire from his red head, and he was last seen flying and shrieking over the endless expanse of desert surrounding Night Vale. Secret Police are asking for tips leading to the arrest of Andrew Ilnyckyj. They remind you that, vigilante justice is, as always, highly encouraged.”

“Oh fuck yes!” Shane grabs his trench coat and rushes out the door. He forgets his gun and the part about Andrew Ilnyckyj beginning a literal five headed dragon. He drives to the prison, hoping that he’ll be allowed to investigate the scene of the crime.

“Here at the radio station it's contract negotiation season with the station management again! That's always an interesting time. Now, obviously, I'm not allowed to go into details, but negotiation is tricky when you're never allowed to glimpse what you're negotiating with. Station management stays inside their office at all times, only communicating with us through sealed envelopes that are spat out from under the door like a sunflower shell through teeth. Then, in order to respond, you just kind of shout at the closed door and hope that management hears. Sometimes you can see movements through the frosted glass, large shaped shifting around, strange tendrils whipping through the air.” Ryan reports through the radio. Shane has to chuckle at his words, he’s certainly had clients with similar behavior. As much as the detective hates the radio show host, he sure does make good company.

Shane pulls up to a cement cylinder in the middle of the desert. Two figures clad in short capes, blow dart chest-belts, and tight leather balaclavas guard the only door. When Shane gets out of his car and approaches, the figures seem unbothered.

“Hello, Officers,” Shane says, voice cracking from nerves he didn’t know he had. “I’d like to investigate Andrew Ilnyckyj’s cell.”

“Why?” asks one of the guards.

“I’m a vigilante,” Shane tries with all the confidence he can muster.

The first guard turns to the other and, using a system of eye twitches and sneezes known only to the secret police, asks, “Can you believe this guy?”

“Yeah, I can,” the second one says with the same system, “vigilante justice is encouraged, remember?”

“Oh yeah!” the first guard says then turns back to Shane. “Right this way, citizen.” They say, this time, in English. The guard marches into the building while motioning for Shane to follow. Shane stands stunned for a moment, watching two people sneeze and twitch for several minutes at each other can be quite the ordeal.

He snaps out of it and follows the guard inside. Despite the cylindrical exterior, the prison is a long hallway with small square cells. Modern architecture is truly marvelous. Andrew Ilnyckyj’s cell is filled with scorch marks and has a gaping hole in the wall. Shane pulls a magnifying glass out of his trench coat and starts searching for any clues. The glass really isn’t that helpful but, he has an aesthetic to uphold.

“Soooooooo,” Shane drawls, “when you say five headed dragon, is that like town slang.” When he’s met with silence, he turns to find the secret police officer gone. Sighing, he returns to his search.

The only thing he finds that indicates that someone lived in the cell is a poster of a sexy female (???) dragon and some gold leaf. When shane inspects the hole in the cell, he finds large tracks leading into the desert. Someone had probably investigated that already, right? Shane recalls the behavior of the citizens of Night Vale and decides that no has investigated this.

After exiting through the hole, he gets his car and follows the tracks into the desert. Even after the town is merely a smudge on the horizon, the radio still comes in loud and clear. “I don't ask favors much, dear listeners, that you know, but I'm asking all of you right now to review my radio show on literally any social media platform, hell write letters to the station. Station management was not pleased with my discussion of their physical attributes and behavior, and is now threatening to shut down my show—or possibly, my life. For good. There wording was...kind of ambiguous. Obviously we will not be able to deliver your posts or letters directly to the management per se, as no one has ever opened their door, but we can shout the content outside their office and, we presume, given an anatomy that includes ears, they will be able to hear what you have to say. So if you like this show, and you want to hear more of it, then we need to hear from you. Make your voice heard to whatever it is that lies in wait behind that darkened office door..” A loud crashing blares from the radio. “Oh! Um, I'm sorry dear listeners—we'll be back after this word from our sponsors.”

Shane shuts off the radio. Dread builds in his stomach, the silence is almost worse than Ryan’s panic. If he had any kind of signal, he’d post something about how he didn’t hate the show. But, Ryan can’t be in any real danger, right? Shane needs to solve this case so he can get his head clear, find the missing kids, get out of this town, solve a serial killer case, land a book deal, get married, have a few kids, and die happy. Ryan will have to wait.

The tracks lead to a cave in the middle of the desert. It smells of flames and the air feels drier than usual. The heat is suffocating, pulling all the moisture from Shane’s body. The cave is empty so that means a stake out which are always much more fun in the movies.

Shane sits in the cave, where it is much cooler but, he still has to shuck off his coat. No aesthetic is worth dying for. He watches as the sun makes its journey across the sky until it is replaced by the moon. He’s about to call it quits until a massive gust of wind blast through the cave. An enormous tremor shakes the earth followed by several smaller quakes. The quakes stop and a literal five headed dragon stands in the entrance to the cave.

“What the hell,” Shane whispers to himself in shock. All five pairs of eyes swivel towards him, blinking in perfect slow synch.

“So are you, like, one of those vigilantes?” The dragon heads ask in haunting-but laid back-unison. Shane gulps and nods, mouth suddenly too dry to speak. The red head spits fire, only missing Shane by a few feet. The purple head, slaps the red one.

“Dude,” All the heads chant, except red, “chill out.” Red rolls his eyes but, doesn’t take another shot at Shane. Andrew Ilnyckyj returns all his eyes back to Shane. “So are we going to fight or what?”

“No-no-no thank you.” Shane’s body quivers like heat waves in the desert.

“Cool,” four of the heads say, stepping further into the cave but, unblocking the entrance.

“Noooo,” Red whines, “We crave glorious battle!” Purple slaps him again.

“Just leave or we’ll wrap you in gold and eat you.” Andrew shrugs. “Or whatever.”

Shane bolts out of the cave. He jumps into the car and drives. Where to? Who’s to say. His hands shake and his vision is blurred. It’s night but, he forgets to turn on the headlights. Suddenly it hits him that he’s in the middle of the desert and driving in a state of shock. A cloud of dust flies up as he slams on the breaks. He replays what happened in the cave in his head over and over again. 

There was a five headed dragon. He almost died a fiery death. The dragon threatened to eat him. He FORGOT his gun and decided to be a vigilante for the day. What is wrong with him? Things don’t happen like normal in this town and it’s seeping into Shane corrupting his mind, destroying the fabric of reality, there’s nothing he can d-

“Wait.” In the midst of Shane’s racing thoughts, a new one emerges from his genius detective brain. “When was the last time I drank water?” He’s in the middle of a desert, consuming enough coffee to give a large animal a heart attack, sleeping maybe four hours a night, and he can’t remember the last time he drank water. Shane sighs in relief. 

He gets out of the car and pops the trunk. A case of water, a box of granola bars, and a change of clothes sits in the trunk for, you know, emergencies. Shane chugs a bottle of water then grabs another one. He sits on the hood of his car and takes slow sips of the water. His thoughts start to slow down and his vision clears. The detective already feels so much better. The dragon was just some weird heatstroke combined with stress. Dragons, just like ghost, don’t exist.

Shane pulls a box of candy cigarettes from his trench coat pocket. He’d grown up with those old black and white detective movies where the dignified leading man would stand under a streetlight with smoke drifting from his lips. He wanted to be that detective and a lot of his look is inspired by those old movies. But, then again, no aesthetic is worth dying for. The candy cigarettes have the same cool smoke and calming intakes of breath but none of the lung cancer. He stretches across the hood of his car and stares up at the stars. Even the stars are different here in Night Vale. The stars seem to wink at him and lights flash across the sky, just slow enough to notice but too fast to be sure of. He could sit like this, just him and a box of candy cigarettes and the stars, for the rest of his life.

Suddenly a glowing purple figure appears in the corner of his eye. Shane bolts into the car and flips on the headlights. There caught in the beams is the radio host. Ryan is scraped and battered, trudging towards the car like a zombie.

“Ryan?” Shane gets out of the car cautiously. “What happened to you?”

“Station management.” Ryan clutches a particularly bad cut on his cheek, oozing crimson blood and a purple so dark it’s almost black. Shane hopes that’s residue from station management and not an infection. “Do you have anything to drink?” Ryan asks.

“In the trunk.” Shane sticks his thumb towards the rear of the car. Ryan nods and staggers in that direction. Shane resumes his position on the car hood.

“This isn’t vodka!” Ryan shouts after a comedic spit take.

“It’s water, dumbass,” Shane shouts back, “and you’ll drink it.” With the way Ryan was moving, the last thing he needs is alcohol. Ryan joins him on the hood of the car, water bottle in hand. The radio show host keeps a distance between the two that is respectable for two dudes.

“What are you doing in the middle of the desert?” Ryan finally asks. Shane doesn’t answer at first, just quirks an eyebrow and offers a candy cigarette.

“Sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong,” Shane growls quietly, hoping to sound dramatic. Ryan just chuckles.

“Me too, man.” He takes a long drag of the candy cigarette. They sit in silence and just stare up at the night sky. Shane eventually turns back to Ryan. His scratches have scabbed over and his eyes are relaxed but, inraptured with the stars. He looks how his voice sounds. Suddenly Shane notices his skin is covered in purple markings. They’re like tribal tattoos but, languid and seem to move and flicker. Absentmindedly, shane reaches out to touch the markings. Ryan flinches away in surprise.

“Sorry.” A pit forms in the pit of Shane’s stomach. Ryan had looked so at ease. “I-uh-I like your tattoos.” Shane’s cheeks feel hot and red but, it’s probably too dark to notice.

Ryan looks at the marks on his arms as if he’s seeing them for the first time and not covering his whole body. “Thanks.” He smiles at Shane. “You kinda forget about them, especial with everything else.”

“Everything else?” Shane quirks an eyebrow. Most people he knew with tattoos never let anyone forget about them.

“You know.” Ryan motions towards his forehead, neck and back. When he’s met with confused silence form Shane, he lightly bonks himself on the head. “Oh right you’re new in town.” Shane’s not quite sure how he’s supposed to take that so he lets it slide.

“It’s getting pretty late.” Shane yawns. Oh right that’s why he doesn’t drink water, it’s decaf. “How ‘bout I drive you home.”

“That’d be nice, detective.” Ryan smiles at him then climbs into the front seat. Just like that, the night is forgotten. Shane drives towards the blink red light of the radio station. Once there, Ryan scribbles something down on a receipt from his pocket.

“Here’s my number.” He shoves the receipt into Shane’s hand. “Just in case you change your mind about that interview.” Before Shane can answer, Ryan darts out of the car and into his then speeds towards town like his life depends on it. The detective is unsure if that’s his fault or station management.

When Shane gets back to his hotel room, a soft meowing can be heard from the bathroom. Obi the cat is still hovering over the sink. Shane, too tired to even reason out the floating cat, fills a plastic cup with water and sets it next to Obi. The cat takes a few sips before batting it away with his paw. Shane shakes his head then pets him.

He finds himself staring at his cork board again. He has to find the kids. No more excuses. He’ll search every inch of this case-even if it leads to nothing-until he finds the Sodder children. Tomorrow he’s going to talk to Old Woman Rie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comment if you enjoyed! I'm a stressed out high school student but, I'm on break next week so an update or two should happen. I've got some saucy plans for the next chapter so make sure to bookmark.


	3. Old Woman Rie

“I’m back,” Shane calls into his hotel room. He doesn’t have his trench coat on, rather a floral button-up shirt and a pair of shades. His arms are lined with grocery bags. The only response he gets is meowing from the bathroom. A strange smell lingers in the air like someone created glee (the emotion not the tv show, or maybe the other way around) out of arsenic. Empty takeout and Big Rico’s pizza boxes are strewn around the room.

Obi the cat hovers over the sink still, his stomach bulging slightly. Shane may or may not have given him some of his takeout last night. But, Today is a new day, a day of responsible pet ownership. 

“I got you some stuff, bud.” Shane drops the bags on the floor and scratches Obi behind his ears. The car purrs then flickers. For a moment his stripes elongate into spikes, his teeth sharpen into needles, and his throat bulges with two green speckled venom sacks. Obi flickers again and he’s just a regular orange tabby. Shane turns on the faucet, fills a glass with water and throws it back like a shot of whiskey. Shane had noticed odd things in Night Vale-translucent people, three headed dogs, moving objects-but, every time he’d look again it’d look completely normal. He’s chalked it all up to heatstroke and has resolve to drink more water.

Brushing off the encounter, Shane pulls a cat toy out of a grocery bag and throws it to Obi. The cat paws the toy around and it hovers with him until he loses interest then, it falls to the ground. Shane pulls out two bowls, one for food and the other for water, with sticky pads on the bottom. He sets the bowls on the sink. Obi pushes at them with his paw but, they don’t fall. Shane sets up a litter box the same way. Everything Obi could ever need is with reach of his floating prison. 

“Cats are not what they seem to be. Welcome to Night Vale.” Shane gives Obi one last pet before gravitating towards the radio. Ryan’s voice reminds him of last night. The radio show host’s voice sounds so different in person than on the radio like a second voice is speaking with him. But then again, everyone sounds funny when they’re recorded.

Shane turns his attention back to the cork board. He’d vowed that he’d interview Old Woman Rie today. Although he doesn’t believe in the supernatural, Shane has used others belief in it to his advantage in the past. One time he gathered the suspects of a murder case he was investigating for a seance and before he even lit a candle, the murderer confessed to everything. It’s a funny story that he uses on girls after he buys them a drink, doesn’t usually work but, it’s still a fun story nonetheless. While Shane doesn’t suspect Rie did anything to the Sodder children, she might know something without realizing she knows something.

“The revitalization of the Old Town Drawbridge experienced another setback this week, as engineers determined that the furniture upholstery used to construct the bridge towers soaks up water and creates an unstable foundation. This week's collapse was the third in as many months. Construction crews have tried building the bridge tower base supports from corrugated cardboard, non-dairy creamer, and ceramic bowls. Nothing has worked. Engineers are asking for help in determining how proper bridge towers are made.” Shane quirks an eyebrow at the radio report. Why is a drawbridge needed in the middle of the desert? You know what, he does not want to know. How this town speeds their taxes is none of his business. He’ll be gone in a few weeks, hopefully.

Shane throws on his trench coat (which looks pretty cool over the floral shirt well, at least in Shane’s opinion) then, walks out to his car. Old Woman Rie lives out by the car lot in a cozy little house that definitely looks like it’s haunted. It’s not ramshackle-in fact it’s quite immaculate-but, it’s old and smells of dust and marble gravestones. Despite the desert sun, the air around the house reminds Shane of a fall day in Il- 

His thoughts stop short. The air is cold like a temperate autumn from where he’s from. Where is he from? Something with an I or a M maybe a C? Shane shakes off his thoughts and the strange vibes coming from the house. He marches to the front door and grabs a brass door knocker, the bang echoing off the thick oak and into the desert. A short woman answers the door.

“Are you Rie, ma’am?” Shane is taken aback by the woman’s appearance. She can’t be any older than thirty-five. She has smile lines around her eyes and short dark hair. Everything about her is youthful except, her eyes. They’re tired and don’t match the rest of her.

“That’s me.” She speaks in a heavy japanese accent and the corners of her mouth turn up when she talks. Everything about her bright energy contradicts the vibe he got from the house.

“May I come in, ma’am?” Shane sneaks a peek through the door, hoping to catch something, just in case she says no. “I’m a private investigator and would like to ask you some questions.”

“I know who you are, Ryan mentioned you on the radio. He’s a good young man, he’s on my bowling team.” Rie smiles and ushers Shane inside. Inside, the rooms are decorated with furniture from different eras and cultures. 60s retro, japanese shogun art, european victorian, it’s all there. A dark orb hovers over one of the sofas. 

“Can I get you anything to drink, Investigator?” Shane’s attention is drawn back to Rie but, once he looks back at the sofa, the orb is gone.

“Some water would be nice, if it’s no trouble.” Shane shrugs off the orb, chalking another strange occurrence up to heat stroke and stress. Rie disappears into the kitchen. Shane, feeling awkward, settles on the edge of the nearest chair.

Rie returns a couple minutes later with two glasses of water and a plate of...something. “I had a couple apple taters in the fryer before you came, would you like some?”

“Apple taters?” Shane grabs one of the taters and pops it in his mouth. The cinnamon and sugar waltz on his tongue as the apples and churro dough play a perfect symphony. “Are these a Night Vale thing?” he asks in awe. 

Rie shakes her head and takes a seat. “No, I was inspired by the ghost, they have interesting taste.”

“Huh,” Shane grunts skeptically as he pops another apple tater in his mouth. “How long have you lived in Night Vale?” The detective usually tries to make small take before launching into actual questioning.

“I’ve lived here my whole life.” Rie takes a sip of her water. That makes her japanese accent interesting, considering no one else in the town has one.

“And your parents?” Shane asks.

“Parents?” Rie responses with her eyebrows raised, like it’s a strange thing to ask.

Shane shakes his head. “You know what, can I just ask you some questions about my case?”

“Of course.” Rie smiles. “What would you like to know?”

“Ryan tells me, you might know something about these kids.” Shane pulls up pictures of the Sodder children. “Maurice, Martha, Louis, Jennie, and Betty.”

“They were interns for the community radio but, I did not know them well.” Rie stares off into the distance, right behind Shane’s shoulder then, snaps back to the detective. “Why did Ryan tell you to come to me?”

“Umm,” Shane rubs the back of his neck then takes a long sip of water. “Something to do with ghost.”

Rie shakes her head sadly. “I’m afraid that I have yet to meet the Sodders in a paranormal way. Which is strange because, Chad, Jerry, and Lealand are all here.” Shane remembers something from the radio about vaporized interns.

“So you don’t think the Sodders are dead?” Shane asks. A flicker of hope ignites in him. Surely if Rie doesn’t believe the kids to be ghost then some information must be telling her they’re alive and he can use that to track the kids.

“Well I didn’t say that.” And just like that the hope flickers out. “Internships almost always end in death. Maybe what happened to them destroyed their souls as well.”

“What happened to them?” Shane asks frantically. Rie clasps a hand over her mouth.

“I’m not supposed to say.” She glances at a lamp on nearby table.

“Rie please.” Shane leans forward, lowering his voice. Rie shakes her head sadly.

“You should leave, detective.” Rie stands an ushers Shane towards the door. “Try talking to Ryan again but, I can not help you.” And with that the door is closed in Shane’s face.

Shane sits behind the wheel of his car, knuckles white around the steering wheel. His one lead didn’t even know the kids or even think they’re ghost. She knows something but someone is keeping her tight lipped. Ryan is hiding something, Shane can feel it. Ryan Bergara is officially the only person of interest in the case again. The detective starts the car and the radio whirls to life.

“More on the Drawbridge debacle. It was turmoil in city headquarters this morning. Following this latest in a long line of municipal failures, the city council has come under fire from concerned citizens for wasting taxpayer money on inefficient services that go over budget and over schedule. One critic, who wished to remain anonymous, said, "We don't even have a river or bay in Night Vale. There would never be a boat for a drawbridge!" He continued to...you know what? Forget it. I can tell you right now that that was Steven Lim who said that, and he is such a spoilsport, that Steven! Have you ever noticed how he spends all his money on overpriced food? It's selfishness, pure and simple. selfishness. I just can't let him ruin our town by denying Night Vale a drawbridge when he can't even budget correctly!” 

Shane’s not even paying attention to the words, just Ryan’s voice makes his blood boil. He catches that the radio host is angry at some guy named Steven, Shane has no idea why but, he agrees wholeheartedly with Steven.

Shane digs in his trench coat pocket and pulls out Ryan’s number and his cell phone.

“Excuse me listeners but, it seems I’m getting a call.” There’s a pause and a sharp gasp. “It’s detetive Madej. It would be unprofessional to pick up but what the hell.” Ryan picks up.

“Get off the radio, you jerk,” Shane growls into the phone.

“Why? I gave you this number to contact me about an interview. Unless...” Ryan leers and shane can hear the smirk on his face. “You’re calling for personal reasons.” Ryan’s voice pours through the radio and cell phone making it sound like four voices are jeering at him which makes no logical sense. Shane’s face is flushed, all of Night Vale can hear his conversation.

“We need to talk about the case, Bergara,” Shane almost shouts. He can hear his voice ever so slightly from the radio. “Meet me at Big Rico’s.” Shane hangs up.

“Well listeners,” Ryan’s voice croons over the radio, “this is quite forward of him, isn’t? Let’s go to the weather.” Music replaces Ryan’s voice. For some reason music is always played instead of a weather report.

Shane shuts the radio off. Ryan’s tone makes him think that he thinks this is a social call and it is definitely not. This is all business. Shane pops the collar of his trench coat. All business.

At Big Rico’s, all Shane can think about is a pepperoni pizza and coffee. Instead he ordered a whiskey and cheese pizza with no garlic. Or at least that’s what’s in front of him. A bell like a scream into the void chimes as Ryan walks in. He’s wearing a button up shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his toned biceps. Biceps that Shane is checking out because they could kill not because they make his face flush. The radio host also wears a pair of tight purple pants. His purple tattoos glow in the fluorescent light.

Ryan slides into the booth. “I like your shirt, detective.”

“This isn’t a social call, Mr. Bergara.” Shane takes a long sip of his whiskey, trying for the grizzled detective look, the effect is diminished by his floral shirt. Ryan does the same, glaring at him over the glass. Shane doesn’t remember Ryan getting his food much less ordering but, the detective has bigger things on his mind.

“I talked to Rie and she didn’t even know the Sodders.” Shane slams his glass on the table. “Why’d you send me to a dead end, Bergara.”

“I figured, what with the ghost, she’d know something.”

“She didn’t even think they are ghost!” Shane shouts. He’s had it up to here with this ghost nonsense. Ryan, on the other hand looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“No ghost?” Ryan mumbles to himself, “and they never found the bodies.”

“Ryan,” Shane growls, “What. Happened. To. The. Sodders?”

Ryan glances nervously at the staff and the napkin holder. “Listen,” he whispers, leaning closer to Shane,”I’ll tell you anything I can on two conditions.” He clears his throat and leans away. 

Suddenly a waitress approaches the table. “Hey Ryan.” She doesn’t wear a nametag but, her name is Stacey. Every waitress is a Stacey.

“Hey,” Ryan squeaks, like he was caught doing something wrong.

“did you hear about to Steven Lim?”

“No.” Ryan’s expression shifts from anger to panic like a kaleidoscope. “W-What happened?”

“Re-education.” Stacey shrugs. “Saw him eating a spray painted gold styrofoam ice cream cone.”

“Dude deserves it.” Ryan smirks smugly then Stacey leans closer and he gulps nervously.

“Hate to see the same thing happen to you.” Stacey drops the check on the table then walks off.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” Ryan whispers, pushing the check towards Shane.

Shane holds the recite for two slices of pizza and two whiskeys in one hand, even though he doesn’t recall paying. In his other hand is Ryan’s hand. His tattoos seem to dance around his fingers and onto Shane’s hand. Shane dismisses it as a trick of the light but, the hand holding does make his cheeks flush.

“Dude, why are we holding hands?”

Ryan roles his eyes. “As I said earlier, the secret police will get suspicious if you make progress in the case after what they heard at Big Rico’s. So this is a different kind of partnership.”

“Is that really necessary?” Shane tries to pull his hand away but it’s like it’s glued to Ryan’s.

“I’m not going help you, detective, if you’re going to be difficult.” Ryan glares at him and pulls Shane along faster. “Interns are a touchy subject but I’m allowed to talk about them because I survived and they work for me. I’m just not allowed to tell anyone the details.”

“So why are you helping me if this could get you in trouble?” Shane stops letting himself be dragged but instead walks briskly next to Ryan.

“Because-” Ryan scans the surroundings “-I don’t think the Sodders are dead.”

“Wh- Hey!” Ryan digs his nails into Shane’s hand, it hurts way more than it should.

“I tell you more when we’re not out in the open,” Ryan whispers then picks up his pace.

Ryan taps his foot impatiently as Shane searches for his hotel room key.

“Who do you work for, Shane?” Ryan says out of nowhere. “Why did you stick your nose in our business?” Shane rolls his eyes.

“Don’t like my detective skills, Bergara?” Shane jokes, continuing to dig in his pocket for the key.

“Who misses the Sodders?” Ryan asks, voice wavering. Shane pauses.

“A mother, a father, and six brothers and sisters.” Shane sighs, “It’s not just my career I’m worried about.”

“Damn.” Ryan sounds remorseful but then his face lights up in panic. “Secret Police,” he hisses.

Shane has just enough time to turn his head around to catch a glimpse of a short cape, blow dart chest-belts, and tight leather balaclava before Ryan grabs his face. They’re kissing. No that’s not the right word. Their mouths are pressed together and their nose’s a smashed against each other. Shane is hunched over and Ryan’s eyes are clamped shut like he’s trying to block out a nightmare. He suddenly smells like he’s drank a lot of alcohol but doesn’t taste like it. Before Shane can push Ryan away, the secret police man clears his throat.

“Evening officer,” Ryan calls. He wears a sloppy grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Mr. Bergara-” the police man glares at Shane “-having a fling with an outsider?”

“Just doing my civic duty, sir.”

The police man rolls his eyes. “And then some,” he mumbles to himself before walking off.

Shane finds the key and pulls Ryan into the hotel room. “Did you just Black Widow me?” he yells once the door is closed. Shane’s turned away from Ryan and pacing around the room.

“You’re no dream boat yourself, detective.” Ryan rolls his eyes. “If you want my help with the case we need a reason for why we’re spending so much time together.”

“Couldn’t we just be friends?” Shane’s still pacing around and hasn’t noticed Ryan looking at his cork board.

“Friends don’t spend hours in a hotel room together.” He’s got him there. “What’s the matter, never kissed a guy before?”

Shane stops pacing and thinks back to college. “No, just out of practice.” Ryan laughs at that and it makes Shane laugh too.

“Hey, me too man,” Ryan jokes.

“So, about your cond-” Shane turns towards Ryan. “What the fuck!” he screams.

Where Ryan was once standing, looms a creature. It looks similar to Ryan, his height, his hair, his tattoos. But his tattoos glow and move around his body like scurrying desert lizards. On his forehead sits a third eye that glows purple and shifts like a desert mirage. A second mouth stretches across his neck like a wound filled with pointed teeth. Black ooze seeps out of his back, shifting from tentacles to wings to insect legs to everything and nothing in between. The ooze is speckled with spots of colored lights that blink in and out of existence. It’s like the night void itself is held within him and trying to escape.

Ryan looks at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?” he says with the first mouth. He looks behind him, searching for something that could create such a reaction.

“W-what what are you,” Shane stammers. He points with shaking hands as he retreats on shaking legs.

“Ohhhh.” Realization dawns on Ryan’s face. “I thought that since you could see my tattoos, as you called themed, that you could see the rest.” He gestures towards his back and face.

“Ryan,” Shane holds his head in his hands as he collapses onto the bed. “Please explain.”

Ryan rolls his eyes with a good natured smirk on his face. He sits down next to Shane. Shane scoots away. Ryan tries to ignore that he did. “Night Vale is weird.”

“No shit,” Shane tries to laugh but it’s more of a cry.

“So,” Ryan continues, “Outsiders can’t see weird stuff unless there’s a mutual emotional connection between the outsider and a local.”

“But I saw your tattoos but not the rest and I’ve been seeing weird stuff but then it flickers back to normal.” Shane rubs his head as if trying to get rid of a headache. He’d been explaining away everything with stress and heat stroke but that only works for so long.

“They’re not tattoos, Shane,” Ryan laughs. Shane looks back at Ryan. The way the markings move and glow is fascinating. Shane’s detective brain takes over as he pokes one of the markings. It moves off of Ryan’s skin and onto Shane. Shane screams. Ryan rolls his eyes.

“Give it back,” Ryan says boredly, holding out his hand.

“You take it back,” Shane screams. He tries to grab it with his hand as the marking races across his skin. Ryan grads Shane’s hand and the marking happily returns to Ryan.

“You can’t just touch something that you find weird,” Ryan sighs.

“So why do you have a second mouth?” Shane’s already reaching out to touch it. Ryan swats his hand away.

“For talking,” Ryan says with both of his mouths. He sounds just like he does on the radio.

“That’s um, neat,” Shane says, staring at the mouth. “What about a third eye?”

“To see, duh.”

“See what?” Shane asks, barely resisting the urge to touch his eye.

“Everything,” Ryan chuckles, “How do you think I can report on live events from the studio?”

“Whoa.” Shane looks genuinely impressed. “What about…” Shane trails off, he’s not quite sure what to call the stuff oozing out of Ryan back. “...this?” Shane touches the ooze. It feels like fluffy slime but then it stiffens. Ryan turns bright red and jumps away from Shane.

“I mean it, Shane, you can’t just touch anything that you find weird.” Ryan gets off the bed and begins pacing the room. The ooze has stiffened into spikes, the colored lights swirling like an egg in an electric mixer.

“But what’s the purpose?” Shane knows he’s just done something rude and he’s pushing it but, it’s hard to turn his detective brain off.

“What’s the purpose of an appendix?” Ryan seethes, “Do you want my help or not?”

“Of course.” Shane rubs the back of his neck. “So your two conditions?”

Ryan takes a deep breath and the ooze returns to the shifting mass of void. “I want that interview.” Ryan crosses his arms.

“Once the case is solved,” Shane promises, “you can put all the information we’ve gathered and anything about me on the air waves.”

“And we have a segment on the show called children’s fun fact science corner and I figured you could help with a few segments. Just basic stuff like how to tell how long a body’s been dead or the difference between human blood and tree sap, you know kid stuff.”

Shane’s not sure that’s kids stuff but questioning Night Vale is the last thing he wants to do. “That’s reasonable but, there’s one thing I still can’t figure out.” 

“What’s that?”

“Why do you want to find these kids? I mean there’s clearly a cover up going on and I’m used to danger but you’re putting yourself in harms way.”

Ryan deflates a little, casting his eyes towards the ground. “I lost five interns in one day and I lose interns all the time but that weighs on you. If I could take five souls off my conscience then maybe I could sleep better at night.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.” Shane puts his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan shrugs it off.

“Yeah, me too,” he chuckles.

“Ryan-” Shane starts before being interrupted by Ryan’s phone going off. He glances at it.

“Shit.” He bites his lip. “It’s five minutes til curfew. Meet me at the radio station tomorrow and I’ll tell you all I can.” Before Shane can respond, Ryan’s out the door.

Shane goes into the bathroom and sees Obi. His stripes merge into spikes on his back, his teeth are nettles and and two venom sacks sit on his throat. His food bowl is also spilled on the floor.

“Damn it,” Shane sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated for so long, school has been rough but the semester is over and I'm on break so I should get a few chapters up soon. Thank you so much to everybody who has left a kudos or comment, y'all make my day! Don't forget to kudos, comment, or bookmark if you want to see more. I've been meaning to give this fic a proper title so if you have any ideas leave it the comments.

**Author's Note:**

> Bookmark, kudos, and comment if you enjoyed! This will be a multi-chapter fic so bookmark if you want to read more. The plot will be fairly episodic and I promise it will deviant from the plot of Welcome to Night Vale and only hit a few of my favorite plot points. I'm mostly going to focus on the relationship between Shane and Ryan so don't worry about the connection to Night Vale if you want to listen to the podcast and not get spoiled


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